


Never Nearer the Light

by quamquam20



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Porn, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasizing, Kink Meme, Masturbation, Obsession, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Orgasm Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Prompt Fill, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 04:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quamquam20/pseuds/quamquam20
Summary: Kylo can't stop thinking about Rey. Daydreaming leads to unprofessional behavior and angsty edging sessions.





	Never Nearer the Light

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt:](https://swkink.dreamwidth.org/2696.html?thread=24200#cmt24200)  
One sided pining/obsession. All I want is angry, angsty, dark one-sided pining. Kylo Ren trying and failing to stop thinking about Rey, and making increasingly erratic decisions because of it.

* * *

Why hadn't he done anything?

Kylo was silent and alone in the elevator, weeks after she'd stood in it with him on their way to the throne room. His throne room now.

Not that it mattered.

He'd thought about what he could have done, of course, countless times since then. Thought about how her eyes would have widened if he'd stepped into her space and leaned down. She couldn't have pushed him aside with her hands in cuffs, not really. He imagined shoving her hard against the wall, metal grate pressing cool into her cheek. How badly he wanted to drag himself over her, kick her feet apart with his heavy boot and brush fingers between her legs, squeeze a little and slowly pull his hand back, tracing the curve of her through her clothes.

The elevator stopped.

He pressed a black button that overrode the automatic door, a security feature that was useful when he wanted to delay another pointless conversation in the cavernous room.

This was how it happened, too. She was a constant background soreness that could explode into a sudden, secret needing. Anything could set him off and Kylo would have to dismiss everybody from the room under some thin pretense or duck into a storage closet off of a quiet corridor.

He pace was easy at first, firm and steady strokes with his eyes closed. That was usually how it started, too, when the relief of touch itself was enough.

But then he thought about how close she'd gotten to him, how he could smell her, wanted to taste her. He wanted to get her on the ground and let her wrap her legs around him, wanted to feel her short nails digging into his shoulders and back.

She could hurt him again, Kylo decided. She could knock him over like she had in the forest. Bite his lip, drive her elbow into him. She could take him into her mouth, use her teeth. She could scratch and slap, and call him whatever she wanted. He didn't care. He would take anything she gave, just to have it.

When he got like this, he knew it was dangerous. He knew he was indescribably weak, even though he was all tensed muscles and hard thrusting into his hand. When he thought about her like that, he couldn't protect himself. Wide open and defenseless, anything could slip in- the memory of her fingers on his, the lie that he wasn't alone.

No. Not now. He imagined her on her knees, begging. He wanted to make her call him Kylo Ren until she cried, wanted to rip her up, wring her out until she was coming on his cock even though he was telling her not to. He wanted her to sit on the throne while he pushed his fingers into her, then pull them out and cram them into her mouth so deep she gagged.

Close.

Kylo stopped, hovering in the feeling. He gave a few slow pumps to see how near he could get without losing himself. Eventually he would, hours or even days from now, when the aching was unbearable and he was so furious at himself for the self-denial that the only thing left to do was come all over his sheets and hands and chest before collapsing in a gasping mess. But for a while, the gnawing heaviness felt good. It felt earned.

Hard breathing and fighting it, pushing the orgasm down until he knew it wasn't going to happen yet. Long minutes passed until his erection faded, his clothes were adjusted, and the elevator opened to impatient faces.

* * *

Kylo was starting to think that her eyes were the most haunting thing he'd ever seen. Drinkable color and depth. Painfully protected with years of practice, she was so guarded that the only thing he wanted to do was break in, over and over until there was a him-sized hole in her armor. It was okay if she was angry. She should be.

He was. Let her in and she left, trailing some burning cord behind her that he was only just realizing was wrapped around him, like a leash, a weightless chain. He loved to rattle and yank on it, knowing she would never answer because it turned out that he actually was everything she'd told him he was.

He thought about what he must look like, sleepless and sweating in his bed because he couldn't stop thinking about a nobody scavenger who didn't want him. How many nights had she shivered, alone in a desert? Dreaming of a comfortable bed while he tossed and turned in his, missing something wordless. She'd earned every tiny thing he took for granted. She had lived more alone than he could begin to imagine and yet she was out there, better than him. She had shadows, too, but had never fallen to them. What hopelessness was in him that made him like this?

If he was honest, he knew she didn't want him because he was an aberration. She should dance on his grave. Grind her foot into his dust and forget his name. He was a misfire of fate, a should-be hero who came out all wrong and he couldn't fix it. He was unrecoverable.

So in the dim room, he did what worked best. The truth was that darkness was the only thing that had ever really stuck around.

He grabbed himself too hard, squeezed and tugged until he groaned, plugged into the sharp sliver of pain and followed it.

The reservoir was boundless. He'd lost the light but what he'd gained was inexhaustible. He imagined dragging Rey there, showing her how much stronger she could be if she really let go.

Rey.

He shouldn't have been so gentle with her in the interrogation cell. If he'd known that she'd leave him every chance she got, he never would have touched her. Or maybe he would have touched her more. Harder. Worse.

And even here, the memory of her eyes dug into him, softness and swirling light just out of his reach. She was beautiful, he'd admitted to himself forever ago. Deep beautiful that he had staggered into.

He wanted her underneath him so badly that it almost had a taste, some kind of sweetness that he'd never had. He wanted to feel her entire body moving below him while he surrounded her and slid into her. He wanted her sweat to mix with his, needed her to lean in so she could hear him incoherent.

Kylo was rough with himself, days of this threatening to flood out of him, his body loaded with it. He spit into his palm to go faster, slick and tight. He could get loud when he was alone and now was no exception, mouth open and head thrown back.

He'd fuck her from behind, cover her mouth and listen to the muffled sounds she made into his gloved hand. He'd hold her up, curled against him as he stood, drive her down onto his cock until she clawed to hold onto him. He'd keep her in stasis while he ate her out, no thrashing legs, just her eyes closing as she came against his tongue. He needed her sobbing, needed her seething, content, smiling, shoving. He needed her every way and he couldn't even think about what he saw when they'd touched hands without falling again and again.

Her.

Her hair, wisps of it brushing against her neck while he had been in her mind. He'd moved in close, just to smell her. If he tried, he still could, in some kind of subterranean memory.

“R-” He bit it off short, caught just in time.

He tried to never say her name. Like that would help.

And here it was, building fast and inevitable. He was done with stringing the wanting out, ready for the quick heartbeats of absolute escape, of body-wracking, mind-darkening emptying that almost made this all worth it.

The moment he wanted to come, it happened. Tearing and fracturing through him, the explosion was every favorite thing, every impulse that drove him, every half-formed word in him. He didn't reel anything in. He controlled nothing and let it ripple off of him in shockwaves. Over it all, the pumping and release that overwhelmed everything else for untouchable seconds.

Coming down, he kept moving slowly, carefully getting every shred of it out of him.

When it was over, he stilled, catching his breath. There were a few moments of contentment, a fleeting sensation of peace. He hesitated to look around and assess the damage. There was always something knocked off a table, or a sparking wire, or sometimes just his chair shifted a few feet.

He didn't mind waiting to clean up, usually trying to linger in the daze for as long as he could. Most of it was on his chest and stomach but he hadn't been aiming. He tentatively ran his clean hand over the sheet next to him, swearing quietly when it hit a patch of quickly cooling dampness. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and sighed.

This was the part when he started to feel pathetic, immediately after the right-after, alone and covered in his own come. As much as he thought about her when he got himself off, afterward was when he missed her the most. He would give anything just to roll over and bury his nose at the back of her neck and fall asleep. Just one time, to kiss her awake and do it all over again.

He wanted to live inside of her and he knew it wasn't alright. He was utterly consumed by the fact that she was alive, that he'd met her at all. That somehow, even in the midst of the huge mess of them, he was unspeakably lucky.

But he was voracious. He couldn't get to her.

The worst thing about it was that she was out there somewhere, somewhere better than with him. Somewhere where she was sleeping and eating without him and doing just fine, while he was tying himself up in knots to get some relief. What if she was touching herself? What if somebody was fucking her?

The sudden thought of it coiled up cold in the pit of his stomach and latched on. Someone else, faceless and nameless, bending her over and making her legs shake.

He grabbed the closest thing to him and hurled it across the room. He didn't care what it was, only that it shattered when it hit the wall.

* * *

On the bridge, their targeting system had locked onto a small, dirty grey vessel. There was no way they could know who was on board, but he could feel her. She'd gotten stronger in their time apart and her Force signature was almost an audible hum to him now.

He raised a hand to stop them.

“Don't fire,” he commanded. His voice echoed as the Force connected him and Rey.

Confused glances were exchanged around him.

“Sir!” Hux was fuming with barely-suppressed rage. “That ship matches a description-”

“That's a civilian freighter,” Kylo pointed out, ignoring Rey standing in his periphery, “on an established trade route between two planets under our control. Let them go.”

The furtive looks now turned to Hux, whose face was contorting in an effort to appear reasonable.

“As you wish,” he managed to get out.

Kylo met her eyes for a fraction of a second. He could still feel Rey staring at him as he turned and walked out of the room, severing the connection.


End file.
